


Waiting

by non_tiembo_mala



Series: Tumblr Drabbles, Ficlets, and Brother Moments ♥ [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-11 22:28:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7073026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets in late. Sam's been waiting for him.</p><p>Cross posted from my tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. Sexy gif leads to sexy rambles. That's all I got, folks.

 

Dean gets into the motel way later than he meant to. The salt and burn was completely routine except for unexpected company at the cemetery that he had to wait out before he got to digging up any graves. He makes it out unscathed apart from aching limbs and a scattered covering of dirt. He crosses the threshold of their room careful of the salt Sam laid out after he left smelling of earth, gasoline, and ash.

Even though he’s tired, when his eyes find Sam sleeping in the dark, tucked up under the sheets with his hair a mess against the pillow and his mouth parted on silent breaths, Dean can’t help but smile. The thought of curling up around the soft, albeit bony, warmth of his baby brother makes him move quickly to the bathroom, ready to race through the necessary shower because there’s something so much more inviting waiting for him.

He emerges a few minutes later in clean boxers and a t-shirt, toweling his hair dry as he silently pads over to Sam’s bed. The room is dark but for the dim pool of light from the bulb above the kitchenette sink, which mostly serves only to cast shadows as Dean mindlessly drops his towel and grabs the edge of the comforter to lift it up and slide in behind Sam.

Dean tries to be gentle as he curls up behind his brother even though he knows the kid must be aware of him and just trying to sleep through all his big brother’s attempts at being quiet, but then his hands find Sam’s waist under the covers and Dean stills.

Sam radiates perfect heat under the palm of Dean’s calloused hand and Dean’s fingers start to trail up his brother’s side, across miles of smooth skin to find that Sam is shirtless. 

In the silence of the dark motel room Dean is suddenly aware of the sound of his own breathing.

“Sammy…” Dean exhales, his hand changing direction to slide down Sam’s back and discover that his kid brother is naked, that he's been waiting for him. He traces the sweet curve of Sam’s ass, palms the delicious skin with a deliberate pressure, and gives Sam’s cheek a good squeeze.

Sam lets out a breathy laugh like it feels good but tickles, too, and Dean _knew_ the little bastard was awake. Sam rolls towards him, coming in close against his chest and looking up at Dean in the dark with his big, bright doe-eyes from under the disheveled curtain of his hair.

“Hi Dean,” he says sweetly, a small sound betrayed by his giant smile and the dimples on either side of it, blinding even in the middle of the night. He tilts his head up and places a quick, teasing kiss on Dean’s lips before pulling back with that same smile.

Sam is fifteen years old, growing into his man’s body going up first, all height and angles and long limbs, thinning out before he fills out but his hands have the same gun-rough patches as Dean’s, he’s already got scars from the hunt, and Dean knows - _he fucking knows -_ how capable and deadly his little brother can be but in these moments it doesn’t even register. Sam looks at him with those batted lashes and pouty, spit-worried pink lips, all manner of sin and innocence, and Dean doesn’t stand a chance. Sam knows his every weakness - that they all start and end with him - and he always knows exactly how to look at Dean to get exactly what he wants. 

“Jesus, Sam-” Dean starts but the sound gets lost, devolves into something less words and more growls, as Sam holds Dean’s gaze and wiggles in closer, snaking his hands around Dean’s neck and slipping his long fingers into Dean’s short hair. Dean cuts himself off by finding Sam’s lips with his own, feeling the pleased grin on the kid’s face as he licks into it hungrily.

Sam makes eager sounds low in his throat, small and encouraging as Dean drinks them down and lets his hands roam all over Sam’s lean frame. Dean tucks his knee up between Sam’s legs with a rough nudge but Sam makes space for him there as readily as he sucks Dean’s tongue into his mouth, bearing down on Dean’s thigh as he rocks forward too, making the space between them small enough that their cocks are trapped and getting some teasing friction from the movement of their bodies.

Dean groans because it’s good but it’s not enough, barely there, and Sam already has him rock hard and wet and _god_ the kid riles him up so fast, dragging his bitten nails across Dean’s scalp and nipping at his lips. He lets Dean completely attack his mouth, deep and consuming, because every place Dean can bury himself in his brother he will; all the spaces between them that Sam aches to have filled, Dean will always make their home. 

Sam whines when Dean’s wrestling his own arm out from under him breaks their kiss but he can feel Sam dripping and making his shirt damp and he’s desperate to get a hand on his brother’s pretty dick. Sam’s momentary complaint is forgotten as Dean closes his hand around his little brother’s cock, earning him a sucked in breath and his name whispered, broken, against his lips.

Dean grins. 

“That’s it, Sammy, c’mon.” Dean encourages his brother with sloppy kisses, a steady rhythm and tight fist for his brother to buck into. Sam’s hips move in quick, short thrusts, choppy like his breathing, and his hands tighten where they pull at Dean’s hair. The angle is all kinds of hell on Dean’s arm but he knows he doesn’t have much longer to go. 

“D-Dean, Dean, _Dean_ ,” Sam chants mindlessly, stuttering the only word he can remember as he barrels towards his release, and it’s the sound Dean loves more than any other in the world. 

“Yeah, baby boy. Give it up,” Dean’s words are reward with his brother’s shout as he comes, spilling warm over Dean’s fingers, which jack him through it, slowing down as Sam shakes apart against him, trembling as he burrows in close to his brother and his body gets heavy, his arms loose like they’ve been forgotten around Dean’s neck.

“Hmm,” Dean hums and kisses his brothers slack, panting mouth. “Lay back, baby.”

He rolls Sam onto his back easy as any doll, Sam moving under his hands like he’s floating, which really, Dean supposes he is. It makes Dean’s heart so full: the fucked out, blissed out look on his baby brother’s face, cheeks flush and glistening with sweat, his own come splattered on his belly, his hair stuck to his forehead or up in every direction, and lazy smile blooming on his lips.

It’s also one of the hottest things Dean’s ever seen, sending sharp spikes of _want_ right through him, tightening his stomach and curling his toes.

Dean shuffles up and straddles his brother, a knee on either side of Sam’s thighs, tucks his boxers down under his balls and takes himself in his hand, still covered in Sam’s come. He leans forward, his free hand making the bed dip on Sam’s left, but Sam just stretches out underneath him, looks at Dean with half-lidded eyes and bites his lip in a way that shouldn’t even be legal.

“Christ, Sammy, yeah. Fuck, look so good,” Dean huffs out as he speeds up, fucking into his fist with his eyes locked on Sam’s.

“C’mon, Dean,” Sam says, still tugging at his bottom lip with his teeth. “Mark me up, big brother. Make me yours.”

“Jesus, Sam-” Dean comes with a grunt, the wind knocked out of him like a punch. Sam arches his back so his chest gets painted with it, writhing with a quiet moan like it feels so fucking good, catching everything Dean gives him because he earned every last drop.

When Dean finally lets go of his dick, his breathing is a little more regular. Sweat drips from his forehead as he looks up at his little brother.

Sam is smiling at him demurely, smug as ever and looking so bloody satisfied Dean would be inclined to knock him down a few pegs if it were over anything else but- this? Sam will always call the shots here, and Dean is only too happy to give Sam everything he wants when it comes to this - when it comes to them. 

“Such a little bitch,” he laughs a little as he lean forward for a kiss, and Sam makes a happy sound into it.

When Dean sits back on his heels and takes his t-shirt off to clean them both up, Sam just watches looking sleepier by the second.

“You love me, jerk,” he says around a yawn, stretching long like a cat under Dean’s hands while his brother wipes him off.

Dean just rolls his eyes and huffs, knows Sam can see him smiling even in the low light.

He tosses the shirt aside and Sam rolls over as if on cue so Dean can curl up around him again, pulling the comforter back up to cover them both. Dean hugs Sam to him close, both arms wrapped around his waist and his nose in the sweaty mess of Sam’s hair, his lips ghosting on the nape of his neck.

His tired brain wades through the afterglow for some witty retort but it’s true what Sam said and Dean can tell from the way Sam’s back presses against his chest in that easy, steady rhythm that he’s already sleep anyway.

So instead, Dean smiles against his brother’s skin.

“Yeah,” he whispers, just to say it. “I really, really do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :)


End file.
